


Those Who Survive

by charivari



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Coping, Drinking, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Moving On, Reference to past depression/suicidal thoughts, Reference to therapy, Reflection, Sobriety, Survivor Guilt, Trails feels, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid, Bluestreak and Mainframe try to come to terms with Trailcutter's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't seem to get away from Trails feels ;-;

"Mainframe and I have planned a wake in Trailcutter's hab suite," Bluestreak told First Aid, "Just us. And you, if you'd like to join us."

First Aid considered declining. He preferred to grieve privately. But he saw the pleading on Bluestreak's face and nodded.

He joined the two mecha in Trailcutter's hab suite. 

Mainframe held up a bottle of Nightmare Fuel.

"We thought we'd toast to Trailcutter's memory."

This sounded a little inappropriate to First Aid. Trailcuttter, though a drunk for most of his life, had died sober. Drinking Nightmare Fuel in his memory seemed to fly in the face of that.

Still First Aid accepted the quart he was offered by Mainframe.

"To Trailcutter."

First Aid spoke the words along with the others, raising his glass. But he didn't drink.

The other pair drank and it contributed to their rowdiness as they began to recount memories of Trailcutter. All stories had one thing in common. They were all set prior to Trailcutter's sobriety. Tales of Trailcutter attempting something in his inebriation and failing comically. Bluestreak and Mainframe were laughing as they told them.

First Aid quickly decided he'd had enough. He set down his glass.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked.

"This is wrong," First Aid answered, "Trailcutter wouldn't want to be remembered this way. With Nightmare Fuel and stories about his drunken antics. He died sober, a hero. He deserves better than this."

"First Aid wait," Bluestreak called.

But First Aid was already headed out the door. He returned to the medibay after reconsidering a visit to the morgue to view Trailcutter's remains. He was bad with goodbyes. With closure. Ambulon's things were still on his desk. First Aid couldn't find it in himself to finally shift them. It would mean there would be nothing of Ambulon to cling onto, only memories of Pharma's chainsaw swinging down.

First Aid sat at his own station and buried his face in his hands. He shifted them when he heard pede steps.

It was Bluestreak looking horribly contrite,

"I'm sorry about the wake," he said softly, "You're right, it was a stupid idea."

"No, I overreacted," First Aid said, "People choose to grieve in different ways."

"Yeah and me and Mainframe took the insensitive, self-indulgent route," Bluestreak said bitterly, "Just like we did on Ofsted XVII. We know it's our fault. For not donating energon. If we had stuck around and done that, you wouldn't have had to leave Trailcutter on his own to come get us."

"I told you to leave," First Aid reminded him, "Because of my own self-righteousness. And as soon as I figured out who the Decepticon was, I stopped my donation. I wanted him to die but Trailcutter wouldn't have it."

Memories of Trailcutter’s persistence played through his processor.

"I wonder, if he had been overcharged, would he have been motivated to help him?” he found himself saying, “Would he still be online?"

"I don't know," Bluestreak said quietly, “Guess we’ll never know.”

First Aid supposed he was right. And speculating didn’t change the fact Trailcutter was dead. Irrefutably, irreparably dead. Just like Ambulon.  

Anger rolled through the medic’s frame. The injustice of it, of all of it.

"You would think that as a medic I would get used to death. But I _don't_. Trailcutter died because of his kindness. How utterly absurd is that!”

The words seemed to bounce tauntingly off the walls of the medibay. First Aid clenched his fists helplessly.

“It’s all absurd,” he found himself saying, “Ambulon died because of Pharma’s insanity. I killed Pharma out of revenge, knowing full well his insanity was the result of the DJD. And what’s more, it didn’t bring me any sense of peace. I still don’t feel like I avenged Ambulon’s memory. Killing Pharma didn’t undo what had already been done. It was just more pointless death. More wasted life.”

First Aid trailed off into silence. He found himself unable to look at Bluestreak. He hadn’t meant to unleash this all on him. But the thoughts had been building up inside him for a long time.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

There was silence.

“I survived the destruction of Praxus.”

The statement made First Aid look up. Bluestreak’s expression was grim.

“The sole survivor,” he said, “I don’t know why or how but I felt so guilty. Why I did I survive and no one else, not a single other person. I felt so guilty that I almost wished I had died. I felt the weight of everyone’s lives on my shoulders. Everything I did seemed to make their sacrifice insignificant.”

First Aid knew about the destruction of Praxus. But he had never guessed the identity of the one mech who had survived.

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s not really something I like announcing,” Bluestreak told him, “If it hadn’t been for Rung, I probably would have ended up topping myself. He helped me realize that, while it’s okay to feel upset, you can’t let that define you. We’ve lost people, we lost Trailcutter, but that doesn’t mean we have any less right to live our lives, to try and be happy.”

He paused a moment, rubbed his crest,

“Does that make sense? Rung has a way of explaining stuff better.”

“No it does,” First Aid said, “Make sense I mean.”

Bluestreak gave him a faint smile,

"I know I'm not one for wisdom and I can't even imagine what your job is like. But I don't think Trailcutter or anyone else would want you suffering on your own. You need to part of the living, First Aid, not just the dead."

First Aid glanced over at Ambulon’s desk.

"Trailcutter liked Movie Night,” Bluestreak went on, “Even after he was sober. Actually more when he was sober because he could actually follow the plot. His favorite was _Rain Man_. I'm screening it tonight, in his memory.”

He held out his hand tentatively in First Aid’s direction.

"Mainframe is saving two seats."

First Aid hesitated. He wasn’t one for crowds. But then what was the alternative. Staying in the medibay, continuing to cut himself off from everyone, including Bluestreak, the mech who had reached out to him. The mech who knew what it was like to have the dead weighing on your shoulders.

The mech who was asking him to join the living.

“I’ll come,” he told Bluestreak, “I just have to do something first.”

Bluestreak nodded. He seemed to trust that First Aid would actually show.

“I’ll see you at Swerve’s.”

First Aid waited until he was gone before he moved to pack up Ambulon’s things. Afterwards he stared at the empty desk. He had expected to feel sad or regretful, but what he mostly felt was a strange sense of peace.

He headed for Swerve’s.

Bluestreak waved at him through the crowd. First Aid make his way over to him and Mainframe.

“Hey,” Mainframe’s greeting was subdued, apologetic.

First Aid knew it was in relation to the wake.

“Hey,” he said reassuringly, “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

Mainframe’s EM field brightened. He gestured for First Aid to sit.

“I just gotta announce the movie,” Bluestreak told the two, “I’ll be right back.”

He ducked off towards the projector. First Aid and Mainframe’s solitude was promptly interrupted by Swerve.

“What can I get you two?” he chirped.

“Nothing for us,” Mainframe answered before First Aid.

Swerve was taken aback,

“Are you sure?”

“We’re sure.”

Swerve left mumbling about making Movie Night a “one drink minimum”.

“It’s alright to have a drink if you want to,” First Aid told Mainframe.

Mainframe shook his helm,

“No I want to be sober.”

There was no need for him to add “for Trailcutter”.

“Hi everyone,” Bluestreak’s voice carried over the general chatter, “The film is just about to start. I just want to say that tonight’s selection is dedicated to Trailcutter. He was a hero and we’ll never forget him.”

There were some cheers and glasses clinked in agreement. First Aid and Mainframe both sat silently united in their seats.

Bluestreak started the movie then weaved through the seated mecha and slipped into the seat besides First Aid.

A few minutes in First Aid felt his hand on his.

It startled him at first. He turned to Bluestreak who gave him a solemn hint of smile.

All the while his hand squeezed First Aid’s.

Gratefully First Aid squeezed back.


End file.
